#sampo hsr

[just-space-055]

HE LOOKS SO GOOD I CAN'T AAAAAAAAAAA

[istralius]

ough

[insertsomthinawesome]

Samposting + Dan Heng, March 7th, and Cosmo! (my Trailblazer) These are some of my earliest drawings for HSR (back from 2023~)

[No romance Included]

[hunnieknight]

Could we have more mouse reader? They are absolutely adorbs <3

The mouse reader is actually a reply for a post from @//jymwahuwu, Please keep in mind their blog is 18+! So I won't tag the post here.

I posted it on my nsfw blog, but I can share the art here because it is sfw!

Plus some other rat/mouse reader sketch.

No lore, just drawing

[axo-jpeg]

GAY SCAMMERS UNITE

[rainbowpandababy]

[giratina-plushie]

manifesting his return asap

[seichv]

˖ ࣪⭑ CERTIFIED FREAK !

☆ sum: sunday, gallagher, aventurine, and sampo's kinks.

contents: nsfw (MDNI!!!), f!reader, bdsm, dacryphilia, exhibitionsim, orgasm denial, slight degradation, praise, p in v, fingering, creampie, squirting, daddy kink (gallagher) sampo is subby and whiny, choking, just... freak shit hehe ;)

note: writing slump: 0 ellie: 1 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

SUNDAY - BDSM

yeah, he can indeed fool someone with those angelic looks, can’t he? he can easily deceive with them. giving you the impression that you could get away with just about anything under his watch, huh? you were simply wrong. little did you know the things he was capable of.

who would’ve thought you’d find yourself tied up, bound, hands clasped together by ropes, ankles tied to the ends of the bed, with sunday looming over you like a tantalizing, impending, dooming shadow, his sharp gaze like daggers, like frosty ice, boring into you, boring deep. 

“should i have brought a gag along with me too, darling?” he teases, inching his face closer and closer to you as your pussy pulsates with a brutal need, drenched in your arousal. he can practically smell it on you. smell your surrender, your submission. 

and oh, how beautiful the sight of your naked form is… trembling, goosebumps tickling your skin. it’s purely art to him. a masterpiece. and it's all for him and him only.

you vigorously shake your head in response, watching him slowly stroke his cock as he aligned it just barely at your weeping entrance, and you impetuously rut your hips up, desiring friction, attention, any sort of contact, as you writhed in agonizing desperation, deprivation. "n-no, please… please, fuck me…”

he hums at the sound of your frail voice, a smile spreading along his face. "such a pretty mouth uttering such filthy words… hm,”

and before you can say anything else, you suck in a deep gasp, the intrusion of his length taking you out in one go. he buries himself to the hilt in one thrust, and slowly, tormentingly begins rolling his hips, watching your expression like a hawk the entire time. he can’t help but hiss, your spongey, melting walls encasing him, sheer blankets of your slippery slick smearing along his cock. this couldn’t be mere pleasure anymore, this was euphoria.

and he’s already lost his sanity,

“o-oh, yes, yes,” you gasp, the thump of your heart skyrocketing in speed, as his pelvis starts smacking into yours faster… and harder… the woody material of the bed frame beneath you creaking, and ramming into the walls. you simply can’t understand how he can possibly feel so good. reaching places inside you you never knew you could feel, as if he were attempting to merge the two you into one.

"i want you to tell me,” sunday whispers breathily, glacially, almost like an eerie rustle of wind, like a whoosh of arctic air blowing right through every inch of your weakened, restrained body. he reaches out, takes your jaw in his slender hand, his penetrating stare not moving an inch from your beady eyes. “how good does it feel, darling?”

your vocal cords are giving up on you, being pulled at with every labored mewl and sob running off from your quivering lips. you can barely form a response, a creeping warmth scratching at your skull, making you feel dumbified. “s-so good! c-can’t… last long…”

and neither can sunday, not with how pretty you look, not with how the sweet, harmonic melody of your sounds makes the ache in his cock escalate overwhelmingly. all the sensations are getting sharper, more vivid, his pulse syncing with his rapid panting.

"cum with me,” he permitted, his tone close to urgent, almost like a plead. “let go for me. together.”

and it all happens quick. sunday grabs onto your waist, tightly as if for leverage or grounding, his eyes going wide as he’s met with his climax, his cock twitching inside your cunt before dumping his load inside, strained groans breaking out his throat as you gush all over him simultaneously.

yeah, he’s addicted. addicted to basking in the blissful pleasure of your body, basking in it with you.

GALLAGHER - EXHIBITIONISM

oh, the things you do to him.

he’s on a shift. but you, being the damn minx that you are, decided to prance on into the drink lounge with your pretty ass, giving him that look, seductively licking the rim of sugar that coated the top of your glass, while looking him dead in the eye.

you little tease,

would it be shocking for you to end up pressed up on the wall in the employee room, that gratuitously short skirt (that you very much wore on purpose) hiked up around your waist, with his thick cock drilling into you? he shouldn’t even be indulging in this, since you’re such a brat. you shouldn’t be getting what you wanted. but he can’t fucking resist, not when you play with him like that.

"showing up to the lounge, teasin’ me like a little slut, huh? while i’m working?” he snarls, his deep, gruff voice snaking up from behind you and right into your ear, making your knees give out. gallagher peers down, before lightly pushing at your ankle with his boot, urging you to spread those pretty little legs wider for him, his hands grabbing at your bubble ass, fondling and spreading the globe-y flesh. he wants a nicer view of that pussy swallowing him whole.

and god, it’s like a fucking glove. a sleeve,

your pussy is crying for him, hugging him, holding on like you can’t bear the thought of letting him go. you’re coating him in that creamy, syrupy slick, and every stroke has the static in your mind playing more and more frenzied. and he’s just so big, that thick head of his cock bullying your cervix with every sloppy, rough smack of his hips against that ass… fuck.

"hngh— n-needed you… so bad…” you’d whimper, choking on every whiny noise that you try to suppress, as you’re still trying to keep in mind that you are indeed in public. not that you’d admit that it turns you on more. you can’t help yourself. not when you’ve got him on your mind all day, his musky scent that engulfs your senses in flames, his perfect body… those muscles that you’re always ogling at.

oh, and speaking of muscles— your eyes suddenly roll right back into your skull the moment his beefy, rock-hard bicep curls around your throat, manhandling you in a chokehold, pulling your head back and making you arch against him, his dazy gaze right up in your fucked-out face, and he chortles. 

"yeah, didn’t you? can’t go a little while without some dick, huh?” gallagher practically growls, his teeth gritting hard with his jaw taut and set in a firm clench. if anyone could get a glance of his expression right now, they’d think he fucking hates your guts, like he’s fuming. with the way his sleeves are pushed up his arms, the veins in his forearm are visible, throbbing and bulging just like the veins of his cock inside you, the veins that your pussy can map out perfectly,

"w-with no haah— panties underneath this fucking shit,” gallagher groans, before his free hand lands a sharp smack to your ass, leaving behind a delicious sting. he’s not even surprised that you like that shit. like the naughty, cock-hungry whore you were. 

“daddyyy…” you whine, your tongue lolling out dumbly as you went limp, every part of you going numb except your pussy, throbbing and aching harder and harder the more he plowed into you with ruining force, as if he was trying to make you crumble apart entirely.

”gonna cum for daddy, huh?” gallagher huffs, his tone of voice nearly mocking. “yeah… how ‘bout you shut the fuck up and take it? k-keep milking my shit dry f’me… f-fuck.’

and that’s when it hits, your orgasm. it’s like a freight train, like a harsh blow, knocking you out in a blink of an eye. there was no way you could hold it anymore, not with the authority in his voice combined with his unmatched fervor and strength—

it’s splattering, your juices squirting out your pussy like a fountain, your mouth agape as your nails claw at his arm that stayed put around your throat. gallagher groans out loud at the sight, his own eyes rolling back as a rushed, ‘fuck, fuck,’ rasps out his strained throat. thick, hot streams of his seed plugs your wet heat up to the very brim, and he stays there, panting hard with you pressed against him.

"f-fuck, sweetheart. made a goddamn mess—"

"gallagher?! whaddya’ doin’ in there, man? you disappear on me, or what?” aaand there’s siobhan… fuck.

you can only glance back at gallagher with a cheeky little giggle. hehe… whoops.

AVENTURINE - DACRYPHILIA

“don't you take those eyes off of me.” aventurine coos, his gaze flickering back and forth from your pussy, then back towards your face. he’s got you prettily sprawled out on the bed, two of his slender fingers pistoning inside your drooling cunt, curling at just the right angle, reaching nice and deep. his vigor is just relentless, you’re desperately trying to clamp your legs together, your face shying away as your eyes squint and your eyebrows curl inward, a squeal escaping from your throat.

“oh, i don’t think so,” aventurine grunts, his free hand roughly spreading your legs back open, his forearm shoving against the back of your thighs so that they stay pushed back. “you are not running from me, darling. take it like a good girl, won't you?” he purrs, and you gasp, dragging out a hoarse whine as he picks up the pace, the wet sloshes that your cunt produces getting progressively louder. even flecks of your juices were flying out with every thrust of his hand at this point, and fuck, was it lewd…

“gonna cum—!” you’d croak out, warm tears flooding your vision and pooling up along the waterline of your eyes as you’re unable to sit still, creaks and rustling ringing out from the bed as you desperately attempt to thrash around, despite aventurine holding you in place. that familiar tingle in your lower tummy was brewing up, and quick.

and oh, were those tears he saw?

the ache and the strain in his pants only hardens at the sight, serving to drive him even crazier. he can’t help it. you look so helpless, so vulnerable, yet so needy, so desperate. and it’s all because of him…  fuck. makes him wanna devour you whole, like he’s lost every train of thought, every bit of composure…

“my, oh my,” he snickers, shaking his head incredulously as he keeps his gaze glued to you, his violet orbs bordering a feral look to them. he loves seeing those crystal streams trickling down those cheeks that are prominently coated in a deep, rosy flush of color. you look like a doll.

his doll,

and he can tell when his doll is close. that adorable look on your face gives it away, eyes wide, gazing up at him, your mouth dangling open, hands grasping at the sheets for dear life. “gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his tone low, almost taunting, so velvety, so smooth, it's practically spine-chilling, and that alone makes your walls clench around his digits once more. as if you hadn’t done that enough already.

"y-yes, gonna— fuck!” you’re cut off as aventurine’s thumb meets your clit, rubbing the swollen nub with skilled precision, causing your pleasure to soar up to insanely imposing heights. its as if he’s trying to coax your pussy into orgasm, trying to lure you into cumming. and fuck, is he doing a good job at it. a good job is an understatement. his hands... it’s like they could cast a damn spell on your pussy,

“cum, pretty. make a mess all over my fingers. go on,” he urges, the smirk on his face flashing brighter as one last whimper rips out from your throat, until you’re squirting all over his hand, and his mouth drops open, his pupils blowing and darkening.

"oh, yess,” he groans, eager to milk every last drop out of your pretty pussy, continuing to finger fuck you through your high, elongating it, even as you’re a shaking mess, trying to pry away from him. 

“mhmm, would you look at that,” he huskily purrs, sliding his creamy, sticky fingers out your pussy with a squelch, licking them clean with a smirk, before your pussy throbs at the contact of his hand meeting it in a mean slap, spanking your pussy and sending a jolt through your body. 

"made my pretty girl cry from both her eyes, and her pussy, hm? poor thing…”

SAMPO - ORGASM DENIAL

sampo is a mouthy one, there’s no doubt about that. roguish, cocky, cheeky. you can't help but feel this itching urge to shut him up. to put him in his place.

hence why you’ve got him in between your legs, his back to your chest, one of your hands pumping his cock while the other is over his mouth, muffling his needy moans.

he’s bucking his hips up as you stroke his cock, fucking up into your hand, his eyes rolled back,

”ohh, baby,” you coo with a sly grin, your warm breath fanning against the shell of his ear before you give it a small nibble. “don’t tell me you wanna cum already, hm? its too early for that, silly boy.”

you lift your hand off of his mouth, only to gently wrap it around his throat, and he lets out a hoarse whimper, shaking his head. “n-no… w-won't cum yet… won’t cum…” he whines, and it practically pains him to say that, as he’s just dying to cum, his angry tip flushed bright red, his balls heavy and aching, desperate for release.

"good boy. you just sit still and take it.” you giggle, your words alone making him even needier by tenfold, his legs shaking, his hands grasping at your legs like lifelines. 

you’re pumping harder now, schlick after schlick, sticky and creamy, his arousal making a mess out of your hand.

he throws his head back against your shoulder with a loud moan, his hips bucking more frantically before you land a soft spank to his balls, earning a sound from his throat that almost sounded close to a shriek. 

“didn’t i just tell you to sit still?” you resume your quick, rough stroking as sampo has to hold back from literally throwing himself around, his consciousness practically out the window at this point. “you were doing so good f’me, sampo. what happened? don’t you wanna cum?”

"yes!” he’s quick to respond, burying his face in your neck as he sniffles, shaking hard like a leaf. “y-yes, please… ‘m sorry, so sorry… w-wanna cum so bad—!” he whines, hearing that buzzing begin to ring in his ears, his vision a bright white light. his limits are being pushed and pushed and pushed, about to burst like a balloon. its too much for him.

"p-please… can i cum for you? n-need to cum for you…” he whimpers, lifting his face to look into your eyes with a pleading, almost teary gaze. his cock is solid, and he needs this release so bad it’s close to paining him. “s-so much… i have s-so much for you…”

"mm, wanna make a mess all over me, don’t you? all for me,” you giggle, pumping especially harder at the tip, making the twitch in his thighs quicken.

"go on, then. cum for me. let me see how bad you need to,” pfft. you didn’t need to tell him twice. like jets, his cum splurts out, shooting straight up and all over your hand as he’s whimpering— whimpering fucking loud. his jaw falls slack, fat beads of sweat running down his temples, his eyes going straight back into his head yet again as he thrashes back against you. you gasp, chuckling softly as you keep your gaze glued to his twitching cock, leaning in to gently pepper kisses along his neck, making him shiver harder. 

”oh, lookkk at that,” you purr, your hand that was around his throat sliding up to brush his hair away from his face. “there you go, easy, baby,” you whisper, and he chuckles breathily, whimpering small little, ‘thank you’s’ before his eyes flicker back open and fall upon your tongue licking his cum off your hand.

yeah. that’ll do it for him. now he’s definitely gonna slurp your pussy off the bone.

[constinconstancy]

i like how my Sampo is literally bringing me wealth like the mythical Sampo

[sakuyumo]

Takeaways from Penacony

[aventurineswife]

Hello! This request was for an spontaneous idea (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

It's about the reader's baby and the characters (Aventurine, Sampo, Sunday and Childe), said characters were distracted or doing something while holding their son, their son was staring at him until he suddenly bit his father's cheek, laughing at it leaving drool there.

The character, after that event tells the reader, who laughs at it and says that it seems pretty cute, until one day the character sees the reader doing the same thing but with his son, "biting" his cheeks while he laughs. It turns out that his own son was imitating the reader... (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

-💤🩵 anon

Little Teeth, Big Love

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Childe x Reader, Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Parent-Child Bonding, Humor, Soft Moments, Baby Shenanigans, Established Relationship, Cheek-Biting Cuteness, Playful Teasing, Wholesome Family Dynamics.

Warnings: Just adorable interactions between characters, their baby, and the Reader!

A/N: I saw this on Pinterest!! 😭🥺

Aventurine sat at his desk, a deck of cards in one hand and his son perched on his knee. The little one’s bright eyes gleamed with curiosity as they followed the intricate shuffle of the cards. Aventurine was mid-sentence, muttering a complex strategy for his next gamble, when a sharp but tiny pinch broke his concentration.

“Ow!” Aventurine exclaimed, freezing in shock as his son’s tiny teeth latched onto his cheek. The baby giggled uncontrollably, his little hands patting Aventurine’s face, leaving sticky drool in his wake.

“Well, aren’t you the bold one,” Aventurine said with a bemused grin, wiping his cheek with a silk handkerchief. “Starting young, huh? Is this what you think of my strategies?” His tone was playful, his usual guarded expression softening.

When you walked in and noticed the scene, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Looks like he’s inherited your love for surprises.”

Aventurine chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Surprises, yes. Manners, maybe not. Though I’ll admit, it’s... oddly endearing.”

Days later, Aventurine returned home early and caught sight of you in the living room, holding your son. Your laughter echoed as you gently nibbled on his chubby cheeks, eliciting delighted squeals.

Aventurine stood in the doorway, arms crossed and a rare, genuine smile gracing his face. “So this is where he learned it,” he teased.

You looked up, grinning. “What can I say? He’s a quick learner.”

Aventurine approached, placing a kiss on your forehead before gently poking his son’s cheek. “Well, my little mimic, you’ll have to up your game if you want to keep surprising me.”

Sampo was perched on the edge of the couch, balancing a small crate of mysterious trinkets on one side and his baby son on the other. His voice was animated as he narrated his latest “totally legal” escapade, occasionally tossing a shiny coin into the air to entertain his wide-eyed son.

Distracted by his storytelling, Sampo didn’t notice the mischievous glint in his son’s eyes until it was too late. A sudden, unexpected bite to his cheek made him yelp.

“Hey! What gives, buddy?” Sampo exclaimed, pulling back and rubbing his cheek. The baby burst into giggles, a string of drool trailing from his tiny mouth.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Sampo said, laughing as he tickled the baby’s belly. “That’s my best cheek, you know. Can’t have customers thinking I’m damaged goods!”

When you entered and saw Sampo wiping his face with an exaggerated pout, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Looks like someone inherited your flair for chaos.”

“Chaos?” Sampo shot you a playful smirk. “I think he’s just testing the market.”

A few days later, Sampo strolled into the living room and found you holding your son, both of you laughing as you playfully nibbled on his chubby cheeks. Sampo froze, his jaw dropping.

“So, this whole time, you were the mastermind?” he teased, pointing an accusing finger at you.

You shrugged, grinning. “He learns from the best.”

Sampo scooped up his son, pretending to inspect him. “Guess that makes you my partner in crime, huh? Don’t worry, kid. We’ll corner the cheek-biting market together.”

Sunday sat serenely by the window, his golden halo faintly glowing as he cradled his son. The baby’s small hands toyed with the flowing scarf draped across Sunday’s shoulders, his eyes locked on his father’s thoughtful expression.

Sunday was mid-monologue about the philosophy of dreams when he felt a sudden pinch on his cheek. Startled, he turned his head to see his son gnawing enthusiastically on his face, his tiny wings fluttering with delight.

“Ah, my little dove,” Sunday murmured, his soft voice tinged with amusement. “Is this your way of engaging in debate?”

The baby giggled, his laughter filling the room as Sunday carefully wiped the drool from his cheek. “I suppose I’ll have to reconsider my approach if this is the new counterargument.”

When you entered and saw Sunday’s bemused expression, you couldn’t help but laugh. “Looks like someone’s a fan of your philosophy.”

Sunday’s gaze softened as he turned to you. “If only all debates were this… charming.”

Later, Sunday returned from his evening walk to find you sitting in the nursery, gently nibbling on your son’s cheeks as he squealed with joy. Sunday stood in the doorway, his wings fluttering slightly as a rare smile graced his lips.

“So, it appears I’ve been outnumbered,” he teased gently. “The two of you make quite the team.”

You glanced up, grinning. “He’s a fast learner.”

Sunday approached, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Then perhaps I should learn from both of you.” He leaned down to place a soft kiss on his son’s forehead, his serene demeanor hiding the warmth in his heart.

Childe was in the middle of a playful spar with his baby son, holding him high above his head and growling like a bear. The baby’s eyes sparkled with joy as he laughed, his tiny hands waving in excitement. Childe’s grin widened as he brought the baby close for a kiss on the cheek.

Before he could pull away, a tiny mouth latched onto his face. “Ow!” Childe yelped, pulling back to find his son grinning, drool dripping from his cheek.

“Well, aren’t you a little fighter?” Childe said, laughing. “Going for the weak spots, huh? I’m impressed.”

When you walked in, you found Childe holding the baby up like a trophy, his cheek still glistening. “Guess what? Our little warrior just landed his first blow!”

You burst into laughter. “He’s definitely your son.”

A few days later, Childe returned home early from a mission and found you in the kitchen, holding your son and peppering his cheeks with playful nibbles. The baby’s giggles were infectious, filling the room with warmth.

Childe leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms with a smirk. “So that’s where he got it from.”

You looked up, feigning innocence. “Got what?”

Childe strode over, wrapping an arm around you and plucking the baby from your arms. “Cheek-biting skills. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

The baby giggled as Childe kissed his forehead. “Guess we’re a family of fighters, huh? Watch out, kid. Your old man’s still got a few tricks up his sleeve.”

[cr1ng3cor3]

acherons baking adventures

edit sigh yes i do know acheron CAN cook. we forgor.....

[kay-selfships]

[b1adie]

new event

[heliosunny]

Hi :)

Could you please add Sampo to your lucky egg series?

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Sampo x Reader

You really should’ve known something was wrong the moment the Lucky Egg cracked open.

A prize wasn’t supposed to grin at you. A prize wasn’t supposed to stretch, roll its shoulders, and whistle like it just woke up from a nap. And a prize definitely wasn’t supposed to sling an arm around your shoulders and say

“Well, well, well! Would ya look at that? My lucky day!”

He was tall, cocky, and way too familiar for someone you’d never met. Messy hair, sharp mint eyes, a salesman’s smile that stretched a little too wide.

Your fingers tightened around the empty egg. “What… the hell?”

He leaned in, elbow resting on your shoulder. “C’mon now, don’t look so spooked! You just got yourself the best prize in the whole batch—yours truly, Sampo Koski!”

Your eye twitched. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Sure you did!” Sampo reached into his coat and—somehow—pulled out a contract. With your name on it.

Since when did you sign anything?

Sampo tapped the paper with a satisfied hum. “Yep, all official! By opening that egg, ya agreed to our lil’ arrangement—”

“What arrangement?”

Sampo grinned. “Why, our partnership, of course! You broke the egg, and now ya got me! Your own personal, one-of-a-kind, invaluable… ah, what’s the word…” He snapped his fingers. “Asset! And with me, comes a liiittle contract.”

He flicked the paper playfully. “Long story short? You owe me, boss!”

You grabbed the contract and skimmed through it, blood draining from your face.

It was absurd. Somehow, the fine print listed a debt. Your debt. For services, for protection, for a “priceless once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

And the price?

Never-ending favors.

Your hands clenched. “You—this is a scam.”

Sampo clutched his chest, gasping like you’d wounded him. “Ouch, boss! That’s a harsh word!”

You shoved the contract against his chest. “I’m not paying for this.”

His grin didn’t waver. In fact, it got worse. “Oh, you don’t gotta pay right away!”

“Right away?”

Sampo hummed, stepping closer, boxing you in before you could move.

“Debt’s gotta be repaid one way or another, sugar. And don’t worry”

“I’ll make sure you don’t forget.”

“What does ‘debt’ truly mean to you?” you asked, voice even despite the weight in your chest.

Sampo tilted his head, the corners of his mouth quirking up like you’d asked something funny. “Ah, now there’s a question! Debt, my dear boss, is the foundation of all good business. A little give, a little take—balance, y’see?”

He tapped the paper in your hands. “And right now, the balance is in my favor.”

“You make it sound like I asked for this.”

He laughed like this was all just a game. “C’mon, boss, don’t be so stiff! You cracked the egg, so that means you wanted somethin’, right?”

“I thought I was getting a normal prize.”

Sampo tsked, wagging a finger. “Ah, see, that’s where ya went wrong! ’Cause luck—real luck—isn’t about what you expect. It’s about what you get. And me?” His smirk widened, all teeth, all mischief, all something else lurking beneath.

“Well, I’m just the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to ya.”

Your fingers curled around the contract. “And what if I don’t want this ‘luck’?”

For the first time, Sampo didn’t answer right away.

Then, slow and deliberate, he took a step forward. Then another.

You took a step back, but you bumped against the counter.

Sampo leaned in, one hand bracing beside you. The other reached out, fingertips brushing yours, pressing lightly against the contract still in your grasp.

“That’s the thing about debt, sugar.”

The air between you was too warm.

“It doesn’t care if you want it or not.”

Sampo tapped the paper once, like sealing a deal. “It just stays.”

He leaned back just as quickly, all casual, all easy charm, as if he hadn’t just backed you into a corner.

“Now!” he clapped his hands together. “Since we’re partners an’ all, how ‘bout I do ya a favor? First one’s free!”

You exhaled, steadying yourself. “You just said nothing’s free.”

Sampo winked. “Consider it a show of good faith!”

Somehow, that didn’t make you feel any better.

You should’ve known better than to accept anything from Sampo Koski.

At first, his “favors” seemed harmless. Little things. “Just helpin’ ya out, boss! What kinda business partner would I be if I didn’t?”

Lost your keys? Sampo already had a spare.

Too tired to run errands? He’d taken care of them.

Had a problem at work? Miraculously, it vanished.

You started noticing other things, too. The way people treated you differently—either oddly respectful or strangely wary, as if they knew something you didn’t.

And Sampo never gave you a straight answer.

“Eh, word gets around, y’know? Good connections and all that.”

The first real warning came when you mentioned needing to pay off your own debts.

You were sitting at the table, skimming through your finances, muttering about overdue bills.

Sampo, leaning back lazily in his chair, tilted his head. “Debt, huh? Must be rough.”

You sighed. “Yeah, well, unlike you, I can’t just make problems disappear.”

Sampo hummed, twirling a coin between his fingers. “Who says I can’t do that for ya?”

You shot him a look. “What?”

“I mean” he said easily, flipping the coin before catching it “if debt’s such a pain, wouldn’t it be nice if it just… went away?”

You frowned. “That’s not how the world works, Sampo.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, eyes sharp despite the lazy smirk. “Ain’t it? ‘Cause from where I’m sittin’, debts can be erased real quick—if ya know the right people.”

“…You didn’t do anything, did you?”

Sampo blinked, then laughed. “Boss, boss, boss. So accusatory! C’mon now, gimme a little credit.”

You set your pen down carefully. “Tell me the truth, Sampo.”

He held up his hands, all innocence. “I’m just sayin’—if ya ever need a little ‘help,’ ya just gotta ask.”

You pushed your papers away. “I’ll handle it myself.”

Sampo’s smirk didn’t waver, but you caught the flicker of something else in his eyes. Something calculating.

Then he shrugged. “Suit yourself!”

But somehow, you didn’t feel like you’d just ended the conversation.

The Second Warning Sign

You were starting to wonder how much of your life was still yours.

You hadn’t told Sampo your schedule. But he knew.

You never mentioned what stores you liked. But he always seemed to be there first.

You never asked him to handle problems, but somehow, they just stopped happening.

The last straw came when your phone died at work, and you borrowed a friend’s.

That’s when you realized… your calls were being redirected.

You stood there, staring at the screen. You tried again. Different number. Same result.

Every attempt to call someone—anyone—looped back to Sampo.

What the hell had he done?

You stormed back home, shoving the door open.

Sampo, sitting comfortably on the couch, smiled like he’d been expecting you.

“Heya, boss! Ya look tense. Long day?”

You slammed your phone on the table. “What the hell did you do?”

Sampo blinked. “Now, now. That’s a broad question, ain’t it?”

Your hands clenched. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. My calls. My messages. Everything’s going through you.”

He exhaled, like he was disappointed. “Aww, ya caught that already? Thought I’d get a few more days before ya noticed.”

That infuriating smirk. That easy tone, like he wasn’t completely violating your privacy.

“You—”

“Hey, now,” Sampo cut in smoothly, “don’t get all worked up. It’s for your own good, boss!”

You froze. “My own—?”

Sampo stood. “D’you know how many folks wanna take advantage of ya? I mean, you’re a real catch! All those people whisperin’, tryin’ to pull ya this way an’ that…”

He took a step closer. “I’m just lookin’ out for ya. That’s all.”

Your breath caught.

“You trust me, don’t ya?”

You didn’t know when it started.

At some point, the scales began tipping back in your favor.

Maybe it was the egg’s influence, the bond between you and Sampo strengthening over time. Maybe it was the sheer force of your will, refusing to be just another piece on his board. Whatever the cause, things had changed.

He still smiled, still teased, still played the part of the charming rogue. But there were moments—fleeting, where you saw something else.

A pause before he acted. A hesitation before he spoke.

Like he was… checking himself.

Like, for the first time, you had the power to push back.

It happened one evening. You’d spent the whole day testing the bond, subtle at first—forcing him to hesitate, making him hold his tongue. By the time the sun had set, you were certain.

He felt it.

And he hated it.

You found him in the kitchen, back turned as he fiddled with something on the counter.

"Sampo."

His hands stilled. Then, slow and easy, he turned, flashing you his usual grin.

"Boss! Fancy seein’ ya here. Was just whippin’ up somethin’ special for ya."

You crossed your arms. "We need to talk."

"Aw, sounds serious. Should I be worried?"

You stepped closer. "Why do you act like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like you own me."

That wiped the smile clean off his face.

For the first time, Sampo Koski looked genuinely caught off guard.

His fingers twitched against the counter. His mouth opened, but no words came. You didn’t give him the chance to dodge.

"You’ve been pushing, Sampo. Pulling strings. Cutting off my choices, controlling my life. But now…" You exhaled, slow and steady. "I think you feel it too."

His jaw tightened.

"I’m not just a piece in your game anymore," you continued. "You’re stuck with me just as much as I’m stuck with you. And now that the bond’s strong enough, you can’t just ignore me when I push back, can you?"

Sampo’s grip on the counter tightened.

For a moment, he was silent.

Then, just as quickly, he laughed.

"Ah, ya got me, boss! I was wonderin’ when ya’d figure it out." He straightened, tapping his fingers on the surface. "Guess I underestimated ya a lil’ bit. My bad, my bad!"

You didn’t believe that for a second.

But you let him talk. Because now, you were watching him.

"You’re not gonna do anything like that again"

Sampo placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. "C’mon, boss, ya really think I’d cross ya like that?"

You gave him a flat look.

He chuckled. "Alright, alright, fair. Look, how ‘bout this? As a lil’ apology for all the… past misunderstandings, I made somethin’ special for ya!"

He turned back to the counter, picking up a small tray of chocolates.

Your brow furrowed. "...You made these?"

Sampo scoffed. "What, ya think I can’t cook? I’m offended, really."

You eyed him, but he just held up the tray, grinning like this was some grand peace offering.

"Go on, boss. Just one bite!"

You hesitated.

Sampo tilted his head, smiling just a little too wide. "What, don’t trust me?"

Of course, you didn’t. But if he was trying to mend things, even if it was just a farce, you had to take the step.

Slowly, you picked up one of the chocolates and took a bite.

Rich. Smooth. A little too sweet.

And then—

A warmth spread through your chest, down your spine, curling at the edges of your nerves.

You swallowed, heart suddenly racing. "Sampo."

"Boss."

Your fingers curled against the counter. "What did you put in this?"

Sampo’s smile widened, all slow satisfaction.

"Just a lil’ somethin’ extra" he admitted, voice dipping.

The warmth intensified. A shiver ran through you, and your knees felt weak. Your mind was still catching up when Sampo stepped in, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. His fingers brushed under your chin, tilting your face up.

"See" he murmured, voice smooth, "I get it now, boss. I really do. You want control. You wanna stand on equal ground."

He leaned in, breath fanning against your cheek.

"That’s fine by me."

"But ya gotta remember—"

Your pulse pounded.

"—I ain’t lettin’ ya go that easy."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself, but Sampo just chuckled, low and knowing.

"Don’t worry, boss." He brushed a thumb over your lower lip. "I’ll take real good care of ya."

You should’ve known.

Sampo Koski never gave anything for free.

The heat spread too fast.

Your pulse thrummed in your ears, your body too warm, too sensitive, too aware.

Sampo was still too close.

His fingers, traced just beneath your chin, guiding your face toward him with a patience that felt deliberate.

"Boss, you’re lookin’ a little flushed there."

"You—" Your breath hitched when his thumb brushed over your lip, leaving a faint smudge of chocolate behind.

Sampo chuckled.

"Aw, no need to be shy now." His other hand found your hip "C’mon, boss. Ain’t this a good moment for a lil’ bonding?"

Your body betrayed you, leaning slightly into his touch before you even realized.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

And it pleased him.

"Look atcha," he hummed, fingers pressing just a bit firmer at your waist. "Takin’ it so well, too."

You tried to reel yourself back in, the heat curling under your skin made everything feel too slow, too heavy.

Sampo took full advantage of that.

His nose brushed against your cheek, lingering just a second too long before he tilted your head up further.

"Y’know, boss," he murmured, "if ya just let yourself sink into it, I bet it’d feel real nice."

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, unsure whether you meant to pull him closer or push him away.

His breath was warm against your lips.

"Boss..." he whispered.

A sharp knock on the door.

The world snapped back into focus.

You jerked away, your body still sluggish from whatever he’d slipped into the chocolate.

"Guess we’ll have to pick this up later" he drawled.

You needed to get your control back.

The knock at the door shattered the moment—but the heat remained.

Your pulse was too fast, your body still thrumming too warm from whatever Sampo had laced into that damn chocolate. Your breath came uneven as you took a step back, gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself.

Sampo, on the other hand—

Completely unbothered.

He merely tilted his head, eyes flicking lazily toward the door. "Huh. Now who’d be droppin’ by at this hour?"

"I’ll get it" you muttered, pushing past him.

Sampo let you go, but not without one last parting touch, his fingers grazing along your lower back as you walked away. A touch so light, so fleeting that you might’ve imagined it if not for the way your body reacted.

You pulled the door open, ignoring the heat still curling at your spine.

A delivery worker stood there, looking mildly bored as they held up a small package. "Drop-off for Y/N. Sign here."

You scribbled your name, eager for any distraction.

"Pleasure doin’ business with you!" The worker saluted lazily before heading off.

Sampo leaned against the counter, watching you with a knowing smirk.

"Package, huh? What’d ya order, boss?"

"None of your business." You turned away, forcing normalcy into your tone.

"Aw, now that hurts. After all we just went through, ya still won’t share secrets with me?"

You shot him a glare. "You mean after you drugged me?"

Sampo’s grin widened.

"C’mon, boss. That’s a harsh way to put it." He took a slow step forward, his presence looming despite his casual posture. "I’d call it… enhancin’ the mood. Helpin’ ya relax a little."

Your grip on the package tightened.

"You keep acting like I don’t notice what you’re doing."

Sampo chuckled. "I’d be insulted if ya didn’t."

He wasn’t trying to hide anything—he was teasing. Testing. Seeing how far he could push.

And worse is- you couldn’t fully push back.

Not when the egg’s bond had tied you both together.

Sampo hummed, stepping back just as easily as he’d closed in. "Alright, alright. No need to get all tense, boss. How ‘bout we just move on, huh?"

Your wariness must’ve been obvious, because he held his hands up in surrender. "Look, I get it. You wanna be the one in control now. I respect that! So, let’s call this a fresh start, yeah?"

Sampo Koski, for all his tricks, still had one weakness.

His own arrogance.

"Fine" you said. "Fresh start."

Sampo beamed, stepping back toward the stove. "Now, that’s what I like to hear! Now, how ‘bout I whip us up somethin’ for dinner? A real treat this time, no funny business."

"Fine" you muttered.

Sampo hummed cheerfully, already gathering ingredients. Already acting like he’d won.

But this wasn’t over.

The exhaustion hit fast and hard.

Maybe it was the lingering effects of whatever Sampo had put in the chocolate. Maybe it was the weight of constantly keeping up with him, countering his tricks, staying on guard.

Either way, you barely touched the food he made before sleep dragged you under.

You woke up to the smell of fresh coffee.

For a moment, just a moment, everything felt… normal. The warmth of the blankets, the distant hum of the city outside, the soft clinking of dishes.

Suddenly you remembered. Sampo. The bond. The "fresh start."

Your eyes snapped open.

Your room looked the same as always.

And yet, you felt it.

Something was different.

Your phone was exactly where you left it. Your things were untouched. But the air carried his presence, his influence.

Just as the thought settled in, your door creaked open.

"Morning, boss!" Sampo greeted far too cheerfully, balancing a tray with coffee and breakfast. "Hope ya slept well!"

Your guard snapped up instantly.

"C’mon now, don’t look at me like that. ‘Member? Fresh start?"

So, you took a breath, forced your shoulders to relax, and reached for the coffee.

"Atta boss! Knew you’d warm up to me." He perched himself on the edge of your bed, completely at ease. "So! What’s the plan for today?"

You took a slow sip, using the moment to gather your thoughts.

If Sampo was really playing into this “fresh start” act, then you needed to play along.

"Work" you said simply.

Sampo pouted. "Aw, all business, huh? No time for ol’ Sampo?"

You gave him a look. He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Guess I’ll just have to find ways to entertain myself."

"Like what?" you asked carefully.

Sampo hummed, swirling his coffee. "Oh, y’know. Lil’ bit of this, lil’ bit of that. Maybe I’ll go explore! Make some new friends."

You didn’t like the sound of that.

But pressing too hard would only make him enjoy it more.

"As long as you don’t get into trouble" you said dryly.

Sampo grinned.

"No promises, boss."

Sampo finished his coffee with a pleased hum, setting the cup down before stretching with exaggerated ease. Like a fox who’d just settled into a den he had no intention of leaving.

"Well then, boss" he drawled, resting his arms behind his head. "Since ya got work an’ all, I guess I’ll have to keep myself entertained today. No promises on stayin’ outta trouble, but I’ll try to be good, just for you."

"You’re not making me feel any better about this" you muttered, setting down your coffee.

"Wouldn’t be me if I did, now would I?"

You sighed, pushing off the bed. You had to get ready. The sooner you got out of here, the sooner you could clear your head.

"Just don’t do anything that makes me have to clean up after you" you said over your shoulder.

"Ah, c’mon, boss. Ain’tcha got a lil’ more faith in me?"

No.

But you didn’t say it out loud.

Instead, you grabbed your things, threw on your jacket, and stepped out the door before he could say anything else.

By the time you finished your shift, you were feeling a little more like yourself again. Being away from Sampo, even for a few hours, helped clear your thoughts. You had to keep a level head. If you let him keep steering things, you’d lose control completely. And that could not happen.

But as you stepped out of work, ready to finally get some air, a familiar figure leaned against the wall outside, hands tucked lazily into his pockets.

"Heya, boss," Sampo greeted smoothly. "Miss me?"

Your steps halted.

"...How long have you been standing there?"

Sampo shrugged. "Long enough."

"You didn’t have to come get me."

"Oh, but I did. Who else is gonna make sure ya get home safe?"

You glanced around. "Sampo. What did you do today?"

"Oh, just some errands. Took a lil’ stroll. Chatted with some friendly faces."

You narrowed your eyes. "Sampo."

"Boss," he echoed back, just as casual.

He was hiding something. And you had the feeling that by the time you found out, it would already be too late.

You knew that grin. That too-easy, too-smug expression. The one he wore whenever he was five steps ahead of everyone else in the room.

Sampo Koski didn’t just take a stroll. He did something.

And you needed to find out what.

"Errands, huh?" you echoed, keeping your voice even.

"That’s what I said."

"Where exactly did you go?"

Sampo tapped his chin, pretending to think. "Ah, y’know. Here and there. A shop or two. Nothin’ worth fussin’ over."

"Which shops?"

"Aw, boss, ya interrogatin’ me? Feels a little unfair, don’t ya think? Ain’t a guy allowed to have some personal business?"

"Not when that guy is you."

Sampo let out a low whistle. "Ouch. That stings."

He was stalling.

Which meant you were right.

He did do something.

So, you tried a different approach.

"You said you talked to some friendly faces" you said, watching him carefully. "Who?"

"Oh, y’know. Just some folks here and there. Nice people."

Vague. Too vague.

But-

You caught it.

A glint of amusement, like he was waiting for you to put the pieces together.

"Sampo. Did you talk to my friends?"

"Bingo."

"...Why?"

Sampo tilted his head. "Well, ya know me, boss. Just a concerned fella lookin’ out for his favorite person."

"What did you say to them?"

Sampo chuckled, reaching out to pat your head.

You jerked back.

"Relax, relax," he soothed. "Didn’t do nothin’ crazy. Just had a lil’ chat, is all."

"Sampo."

"Boss" he said, mocking your tone.

Your patience snapped.

"Sampo, I swear, if you—"

"All I did," he cut in smoothly, "was remind ‘em of a few things. How easy it is for folks to get mixed up in bad deals. How sometimes, people ain’t always what they seem."

"You—"

"So really, boss," he murmured, "if they ain’t got nothin’ to hide, they got nothin’ to worry about. Right?"

You didn’t know exactly what he told them, but you knew Sampo.

He didn’t just warn them off.

He planted something. Just enough to make them hesitate.

And in doing so, he was isolating you.

"You had no right"

Sampo just smiled.

"Aw, boss" he sighed. "Ain’t that what debt’s all about?"

He tapped your chin playfully.

"Rights don’t matter. Just what’s owed."

You slapped his hand away.

He let you.

"You can’t keep doing this. You can’t just decide things for me."

"Boss, boss, boss. I ain’t decidin’ anything. I’m just makin’ sure you see things clearly."

"Lying to my friends isn’t ‘seeing clearly.’"

"Ah, but if I’m lyin’, then why ain’t they here, huh?" He tapped his temple. "Think real hard about it. If they really trusted ya, really knew ya, then one lil’ talk wouldn’t shake ‘em, would it?"

You felt like you’d been punched.

Because it worked.

"See?" he murmured. "Told ya. It’s just business, boss."

You couldn’t let him win.

You shoved past him, ignoring the way he laughed as you stormed ahead.

"I’m going home" you said sharply. "And you’re not coming with me."

Sampo let out a long, theatrical sigh.

"Aw, boss. Now that’s just cold."

You didn’t answer.

You just kept walking.

By the time you reached your apartment, your pulse was still hammering.

You exhaled slowly, pressing your fingers to your temples.

You needed to fix this.

Click

The door unlocked.

Behind you.

A voice, smooth as silk, just inches from your ear.

"Now, now, boss," Sampo murmured, his warmth pressing against your back. "That ain’t very fair, is it?"

You spun—

Sampo caught your wrist.

Not playful.

Not teasing.

Not anymore.

"You were gonna leave me behind?" he asked, voice still light, but something in his grip said he wasn’t giving you a choice.

"You broke in" you whispered.

Sampo chuckled, tilting his head. "C’mon, boss. You really think I need to ‘break in’? I got a key, remember?"

He was right.

You’d given him one. Back when you thought this was just Sampo being Sampo.

Back when you thought you had control.

"You need to go"

Sampo hummed. "Now why would I do that?"

"Because I don’t want you here."

His fingers tightened around your wrist.

"And yet," he murmured, pulling you closer, "here I am."

You fought to steady your breathing.

"You’re not listening to me"

Sampo sighed dramatically. "Oh, I’m listenin’, boss. Loud n’ clear."

"But I don’t like what I’m hearin’."

"You can’t just—"

"Can’t what?" Sampo cut in, finally letting the mask slip.

For the first time, you saw it clearly.

The obsession.

"You think you can just walk away from me? After all this? After everythin’ we been through?"

His grip slid from your wrist to your chin.

"Now, boss" he said, smiling again. "That don’t sound fair to me."

And for the first time you realized

You weren’t leaving this room until he decided you could.

Sampo still had that same lazy grin, but his grip on your chin was firm—too firm.

"You’re not being reasonable" you said, keeping your voice calm, measured. "This isn’t—"

"Ain’t about bein’ reasonable, boss." His thumb brushed your cheek. "It’s about what’s owed."

"You keep saying that."

Sampo tilted his head. "Well, ‘cause it’s true."

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. "Then tell me, Sampo—what do I owe you?"

He leaned in.

"Everything."

"You’re insane" you whispered.

Sampo chuckled. "Probably."

You had to get out.

Before this went too far.

Before he decided to take more than you could handle.

Sampo’s grin turned wolfish.

"Ah, boss," he sighed, shaking his head. "Always tryna squirm outta things. Just like the first time, huh?"

The egg.

The thought hit you like a bullet.

That bond—it went both ways.

You had some control. Not much. Just enough.

You closed your eyes. Focused. Pushed against the connection between you.

Sampo’s grip loosened. Just a fraction.

But it was enough.

You ripped yourself free, stumbling back.

Sampo blinked, surprised.

Then—

He laughed.

Laughed.

"Well, well," he mused, brushing his thumb over his lower lip. "Ain’t that somethin’."

You didn’t waste time. You bolted for the door.

Before you could reach it—

"Y’know, boss," he murmured. "If ya really wanna run—"

Click

The lock snapped shut.

"I’ll always be right behind ya."

You spun, his hand rested against the door next to your head. His other hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

That same lazy smirk.

That same easy, unshakable confidence.

Like he already knew how this would end.

You weren’t getting away.

"Ain’t no such thing as a debt that don’t get paid, boss."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"And I always collect."

[hunnieknight]

Me seeing Sampo with bird: Iihh, Sampo main [REDACTED]

WHOEVER SENT THIS-BWAHAHAHA

IM SORRY-

For non Indonesian, burung means bird, but it is also a slang for p/nis.

THE BLUE BIRD IS MY OC

Eng ver, the joke doesn't cross well in translation. It's better if i use the word cock and putting a rooster.

Sorry, my horny ass didn't have to go hard on this.